Euthanasia
by WhippedByAnAngel
Summary: Castiel had always thought that living was the salvation for Dean Winchester. He might be right by saying so...however, he did always take things too literally. Set years into the future. Destiel.


Hello once again! I had another epiphany in the bathroom, and this is what happened. I'm sorry if my stories are coming out as depressing. Anyway, here we go, my second Destiel!

**Dislaimer: **I do not own Supernatural. Not now, not ever. I do, however, own Misha Collins...in my dreams.

* * *

_Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them. (George Eliot)_

**_Euthanasia_**

"Annie? Annie, where are you? Old man at 2104 is up." The domestic helper named Annie sighed, opting to drink her coffee in one gulp as she heard her radio go off. She's only had about three hours of rest and now she was wanted to take care of yet another old guy. Not that she didn't want to… but sometimes, she just needs to sleep herself off for a day, or a week, or a month, maybe.

Shaking her head, she crumpled the paper cup and threw it to the nearest bin. The old man at 2104 was pleasant anyways.

It took 10 minutes for her to reach the 21st floor where the old man resided—the elevator was quite crowded. Annie Fabelle works in a home for the aged—for the filthy rich aged. These old people with busy or nonexistent relatives that could not take care of them are housed in fairly large condominium units with different domestic helpers catering to their needs. Usually, rich sons and daughters are the ones to place them here: ungrateful sons of bitches who after being taken care of when little, repays the favor by dropping their parents under the care of strangers. But that was not the case for the man at 2104. The man who left him here, Annie blushed at the thought, seemed to be a _lover._ There was no explicit evidence to back this up but she could guess by how the much younger man treated the elderly. It wasn't the hands of a careful son; it was that of a lover.

Stopping in front of the door, she promptly knocked. "Sir?"

No answer.

Annie frowned. He should have been awake by now. So she tried again at a louder manner. "Sir? It's Annie, your helper for Fridays."

"It's open!" A muffled sound reached her. She turned the knob and true enough, it wasn't locked. Opening the door, an empty living room greeted her. However, the sound of hissing water could now be heard as she stepped inside. The old man was definitely a breath of relief for Annie, since even at his old age of 75, he was still able to take a bath without help.

The hissing stopped and the old man stepped out of the bathroom, already fully clothed. He glanced at Annie. "Uh, sorry, I was in the shower, miss." He gave a wink as he sat on the sofa.

"It's quite alright, sir." The young woman smiled warmly. It wasn't everyday an old man winks at you, and even though her colleagues may find it disgusting, Annie found no harm in the gesture. It was just probably how he charmed the opposite sex when he was younger.

"Is there anything you need, sir? Before I start making your favorite?" Annie inwardly smiled at the pleased expression of the man. The man shook his head and placed both his hands on the coffee table in front of him. However, before she could reach the kitchen, he called out.

Annie turned to the graying man. He was staring at something before him, confusion etched all over his face.

"Where's my brother?"

Her smile dropped slowly. "He's not here."

"Why?" He looked at her sharply.

"It's because," The_ only_ thing wrong with the man was that…, "he's gone, sir." _...he had Alzheimer's._

Shock registered into his face for a moment, and then turned to a dangerous fury. "You're a demon, aren't you?!"

"No, sir, please calm down!" Annie grew distressed and for a second she thought he would try to attack her. When he didn't, she quickly went to the coffee table, pulling out a small album, placing it in front of the man. It was not the first time this has happened, and it was a good thing the young man had told her what to do in such situations.

"_Please give this to him if he starts asking for his brother."_

And it was effective all the time. He would stare at the pictures and would end up crying. Annie's heart broke for the old man every time. He had to go through the same pain again and again, of knowing he had lost his brother, because of his stupid sickness.

She trudged back to the kitchen and started her work, giving the man some space.

She started procuring necessary ingredients for the recipe from the cabinets when she suddenly heard a knock on the door. Glancing at the wall clock briefly, 7:00am, she proceeded to the door and opened it, knowing already who the visitor was. The young man was always so punctual.

True enough, it was the young man who greeted her. He wasn't carrying anything this time which piqued the helper's curiosity. He always brought something for the older man during his visits. He even brought him a single tire once that made the old man inexplicably happy.

"Hello."

"He's in the living room, sir." Annie smiled and gave a polite nod, opening the door wider for the young man to enter.

The young man stepped inside and turned to her. "How is he?"

"He remembered his brother, sir, and I gave him the album, just as you instructed."

The man nodded. "Thank you." He turned away from her and proceeded to go to the living room as Annie went back to the kitchen to finish what she was working on.

* * *

Even with wrinkles adoring his forehead, and his hair all white, it was still evident that the old man was handsome and perhaps exceptionally so during his younger years. As he finished the album, with the last picture of him and a familiar man in a trench coat sitting beside his brother's tombstone, the tears had already dried up. Underneath the picture, a scribble was written, just like with all the others, in his own handwriting.

_Visited family._

He frowned. The man beside him had his back facing the camera when this was taken so he couldn't see his face. His heart tugged with ache as he stared down at the picture and suddenly felt great necessity to remember the man in the trench coat. He felt frustration creep up as he tried hardly to remember his companion's face.

However, before he could even finish a minute of doing so, a voice snapped him away from his thoughts.

"Hello."

A man much younger than him stood in front of him, the coffee table in between. He had electric blue eyes and messy black-hair. And he was wearing that trench coat from the picture. The older man suddenly felt his heart beating fast.

"Wh—who are you?" A fleeting pained expression crossed the other man's face but was instantly gone. He moved closer to the old man and sat beside him. He took a deep breath and faced the old man. The old man was mesmerized, drinking in the familiarity of those blue eyes. He hated himself that he couldn't remember. He felt that the young man was someone very important to him.

"Allow me take you with me."

The old man was startled. "Take me where?"

The young man looked down and shook his head. "You have been suffering for so long."

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"It was a mistake to leave you here alone... I thought it was best to keep you alive. Please forgive me." He was not making any sense. The old man could only feel his heart beat getting even faster and he didn't know why it was doing so.

Blue eyes stared at him. They were laced with guilt, longing and a soft expression the older man couldn't recognize—or perhaps forgot.

"I should have taken your life when you asked me to."

"I—I did?" _Thump. Thump. Thump. .THUMP._

The man nodded and swiftly turned to the direction of the kitchen, and then looked back at him.

"Would you like to go with me now?"

"I don't even know who you are," is what he should be saying to the man, and he even recalled that Annie the helper was making him his favorite food. He didn't even know where they would be going… But something in the young man seemed safe…like he could trust him with his life.

The old man found himself nodding dumbly.

The young man flashed a genuine smile and look liked it was the first time he had breathed after so many years.

"Finally."

* * *

Annie finally finished baking the apple pie the old man was so fond of. Oddly enough, the younger man never asked for a piece…now that she noticed, she had never even seen the young man eat. Shrugging, she placed the freshly baked pie in a tray, placing a small plate beside it with a fork on top of the plate.

As she reached the living room, she found it odd to find the young man gone already, for she didn't even hear the door, and that the old man was sleeping at this time of the day. She placed the tray on the coffee table and went over the man to wake him up because he needed to take his medicines ten minutes from now.

However, as she reached the old man, she noticed he wasn't breathing anymore. Panicked seized her heart and she quickly tried to find a pulse as her other hand blindly went for her radio.

"Martha, Martha!" She called out desperately, hoping the other person wasn't taking a break.

"Yeah—"

"It's the old man. He's…he's—" She could feel herself hyperventilating.

"—he's not breathing." Tears from panic started to pour out from her eyes and she started to sob.

"Okay, Annie. Take a deep breath." She did. "Now tell me what unit you're at and the man's name."

"Two—2104. Dean Winchester. He was just—he even had—"

"Compose yourself, Annie! Do you know what happened? That paramedics are on their way."

"No." The young woman helplessly croaked.

Five minutes later, the paramedics arrived. It was easily ruled out as a heart attack.

Apparently, what his mind missed, his heart had never forgotten.

_Fin_

* * *

Annie was the first name that came up to me. It just seemed so common and it was what I needed because even though most of the story is in her point of view, the actual story is still about Dean and Castiel. Dean who had grown old and acquired Alzheimer's and Castiel who did not have the heart take his life away even when Sam had died already and that Dean had nothing left. Castiel, of course, being immortal, does not age so he was still portrayed a young man compared to the aging Dean.

Anyway! Thank you for reading the story. It would be appreciated if you'd drop a review and tell me what you thought about it. I wrote this having mixed feelings.


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